The Voice Of Vytautas The Great XV Century

I

My treasure –
Two seas,
The fertile plains,
The bright clear sky,
A million melodic skylarks,
Trees, rivers, waves.

In my solitude I cry out:
To whom will I leave my treasure,
I have not sired a son –
For whom will my beloved seas moan,
For whom will the skylarks sing,
Rivers flood,
Oceans drone?

All crossroads
Once led to glory
But the future now inspires only pain –
I haven't see my face in my son's,
I haven't heard my voice in his –
And I sit and curse all treasures.

II

I will sleep with the hope of triumph
Like the hearth –
With one glowing ember,
And will dream through the severe night
That I flame
With fire for Lithuania.

I wore no wreath on my head,
1 did not hold a king's scepter in my hand –
The barren nights did not give birth to morning,
Did not stir the embers
In the ashes into flame ...

Biting winds will tear my dreams
Like a flag raised high on the battlefield;
The embers of my fire
Will wander through cold eternity
Until they regain their heat
In your hearts.